


Small pleasures

by intravenusann



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Bruises, Dirty Talk, Hair-pulling, Illustrated, M/M, Office Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rain, Sharing Clothes, Wet Clothing, minor D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 21:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11837100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intravenusann/pseuds/intravenusann
Summary: A collection of short, explicit, and unrelated Gradence fics based on requests received on tumblr. Includes: Marks on skin, clothes sharing, hair pulling, getting caught in a storm.





	1. Skin

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Credence holds his legs so far apart that the tendons at his hips stand out in stark relief. Time has added muscle to bone and sinew, but very little softness. When Percival kisses his pale skin, he feels tense muscle shiver under his lips. **  
**

Credence rocks his hips as though trying to draw attention to his flushed cock. It’s not as though Percival could miss it, arching straight up toward Credence’s belly and wet at the very tip.

When Percival leans back on his heels and looks up at Credence, his cock twitches. His testicles, too, pull tight to his body. His whole figure seems taut with desire.

Despite his flushed face, Credence has stayed terribly quiet. Now, he is silent even as he wraps a hand around his cock and strokes himself.

Percival reaches up and gently pulls on his wrist.

“Please,” Credence says.

“Please what?” Percival asks.

Rather than answer, now, Credence makes an ugly face at him.

“Just, please,” Credence says.

“What would you like me to do?” Percival asks.

Even on his knees, he can see the muscles in Credence’s jaw working. The muscle beneath his eye twitches just once.

“Do you want me to touch your cock, Credence?” he asks.

“Yes!” Credence snaps.

“Want me to suck it until you come down my throat again?” Percival asks. He’s smirking, which seems cruel because Credence looks overwrought and furious. At least as much as Credence ever allows himself to look that way, tightly controlled as he is.

“Please, Percival,” he says. “Percy, my love, darling, I want it all.”

He’s begging, which is a first. How can he resist such a plea?

“Then say so,” Percival tells him.

Credence’s lips, his full and beautiful lips, pull back from his teeth for only second. He huffs out a breath — but stays silence.

Percival hums low in the back of his throat. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll get back to things.”

He does not threaten to tie Credence’s hands behind his back, he knows he doesn’t need to.

Though who knows? Credence has talked him into this most interesting experiment. There are secret depths in the man’s mind which Percival can only hope to someday explore and draw into the light.

For now, he looks at the inside of Credence’s thighs and sees the red impressions of his own teeth. The skin is flushed from the scrape of Percival’s short fingernails as well. Some of the pink might even be from his face, though he made sure to shave in both directions before taking Credence to bed.

One bite mark — so close to the joint of Credence’s hip and thigh that Percival had felt the heat of his cock and balls against his cheek — has an impression of practically every tooth in his mouth. He may have gotten carried away there. It earned him barely the softest whine from Credence’s red mouth.

Now, he reaches down and takes hold of Credence’s ankle. Percival bows before him, like a supplicant before some marble idol. He does not try to move Credence, only himself.

He kisses the bones of his ankle, nipping at the skin. Teeth against the tendon above his heel make Credence kick slightly, but he makes no sound. Percival kisses his way up the man’s shin, then, letting the dark hairs prick at his lips.

He holds the hard, square muscle of Credence’s calf in the curve of his hand and bends his body around so that he can kiss it.

Here, again, he cannot resist. He opens his mouth as wide as he can and bites down. It’s quick, but hard. He wants to leave a mark that will last — unless Credence chooses to banish it with a healing charm.

Credence swallows whatever sound he makes, his whole naked chest hitching with the force of it. The wetness beading at the dark, dark red tip of his cock wells up and spills over, running down the whole length of it.

Percival wonders which of them truly can hold out the longest; he thinks it will be Credence.


	2. Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Graves has a clothing kink. I bet he'd like to see Credence in one of his shirts. And nothing but the shirt."

Just before he gets Credence into bed, Percival feels ten years younger than he is. But he’s learning that the aftermath makes him feel ten years older.

He lays in bed and touches his mouth with one hand. Charms can wipe away semen and sweat, all the mess, but he finds he doesn’t wish to spell away the bruised feeling in his lips. If he had the energy, he might get up and inspect his back to see if Credence’s grasping hands left the marks Percival imagines are there.

The best that he can manage, at the moment, is to turn his head and inspect the red mark in the shape of Credence’s teeth on his shoulder. It looks like the smothered scream it probably was. He cannot help himself, Percival feels quite proud.

Also sore.

Credence sits up in bed, but uses his magic to pull a shirt from the dresser rather than slip out from under the covers. It’s such a simple thing, but Percival delights in it.

“Dearest,” he says, “I think that’s my shirt.”

Credence slips his arms into it rather than letting magic slip it onto his arms, but Percival still watches him transfixed.

He looks over, his mouth very red and pink in his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

Credence pulls the shirt closed over his chest and turns his nose into the collar. His longer hair sticks to his forehead with sweat.

“Not at all,” Percival says, feeling just a little bit faint.

Would a spell for vitality be worth it now for the double dose of exhaustion he would feel when it wore off? Percival rolls onto his side for a better view of Credence. The longer he looks, the more tempting it is.

“I was feeling a chill,” Credence says.

Percival doubts that enough that he doesn’t offer any warming charms. Credence is perfectly capable of casting them himself anyway. If he feels he needs an excuse to slip into Percival’s clothing after orgasm, then Percival would let him make any excuse at all.

The sleeves fall short of Credence’s long arms and the open cuffs expose the bones of his wrists and the long line of his forearms, dusted with dark hair. The hem at the sides falls just short of Credence’s hips, so that not even an inch of Credence’s long legs is covered. Percival traces the lines of his body in repose and wishes he had the energy to run his hands up those legs. Credence still looks like a man who walks absolutely everywhere, with calves that Percival feels tempted to sink his teeth into.

Percival looks back up to Credence’s chest, pale skin framed by starched white fabric. His body betrays him, for all he wants is to press Credence down and kiss him with abandon. He wants to feel the cuffs of his shirt against his shoulders as Credence clutches at him all over again. He’d be back inside that stunning body again in a second if he could even move.

“Come here,” Percival says. “Please.”

He beckons Credence with his hand and lets himself fall flat against the sheets again.

Credence smiles softly as he climbs over Percival. The shirt falls open and hangs to frame his body as he leans over Percival. He puts his hands against Credence’s side and settles his fingers against the man’s ribs. At first Credence leans away, but then he moves closer and closer until Percival’s hand is against his back, with the bumps of his spin under his palm.

“Have I told you how good you look in my clothes?” Percival asks. He can’t help the way he smirks up at Credence. One of Credence’s eyebrows lifts just the smallest amount higher than the other and the corner of his mouth rises with it.

“You might have mentioned it,” Credence says.

He leans close enough to breathe against Percival’s lips. It makes his tired heart pound.

“You could mention it again,” Credence tells him.


	3. Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Credence discovers he loves it when Percival pulls on his hair."

Percival asks him if he can touch his hair. Of course, he does.

“It’s grown so long,” he says.

Credence smiles a little, proud of nothing but the passage of time. He still jumps sometimes when it touches the back of his neck. But now he shivers as Percival’s fingers move up the nape of his neck and into his hair.

“I never realized it curled like this,” Percival says.

He looks over Credence in a way that makes him want to be looked at. He feels like a spring leaf opening forth under the warmth of the sun. He absolutely must kiss Percival.

“May I,” he begins.

When he leans forward, Percival’s hand follows him. He shapes his touch to the back of Credence’s head. Credence’s eyes slide shut from the pleasure of that.

“Yes,” Percival tells him, before he can finish asking.

Credence folds against him bodily. He places his hands on Percival’s waist and on his thighs. He kisses him with an open mouth. As Credence’s tongue slides over Percival’s lower lip and against his teeth, Percival’s hand moves through his hair with more care than an ivory comb.

Credence kisses him deeper, presses himself closer. His thumb catches on the one side of Percival’s suspenders hard enough to pull it free from the buttons. He holds onto Percival’s hip and his fingers flex hard when Percival makes a sound into his mouth.

With magic, Credence knows, Percival could divest them both of their clothes and sweep them away to bed. Credence wishes he would.

He moves his hand between Percival’s legs.

Against the back of his head, Percival’s fingers close into a fist with the strands of Credence’s hair between them.

The sound that Credence makes surprises them both.

Percival lets him go, but it is too late. Credence’s erection, stirred by simple kisses and gentle touches, throbs with an urgent need. He could ignore it. He doesn’t want to, not with Percival right here.

Worse, Percival turns his mouth away from Credence’s kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Credence pulls away just so that he can look at Percival and Percival can look at him.

“Please,” he says, “would you do that again?”

Percival’s eyes widen just slightly.

“Perhaps,” Credence adds, “while in bed.”

“Would you like that, Credence?” Percival asks.

“I think so,” Credence says.

Percival reaches up to stroke him from the top of his hair downward. Credence tips his head back against the touch, offering Percival his mouth and chin and naked throat. Percival kisses his lower lip. Then he grabs Credence by the hair at the nape of his neck. Credence’s cry is not muffled by a kiss now.

An arm winds around Credence’s waist and helps him to hold his weight when Percival pulls him to his feet with by his hair. Credence’s cock throbs in time with his pounding heart. He presses his hips against Percival’s body, seeking the friction he can stir between their clothes. His knees shake.

“I want to give you everything you want,” Percival says.

Credence grabs Percival with urgent hands. He cannot catch his breath. He can hardly speak.

But if he could, Credence would tell him the truth of this moment, “All I want is you.”


	4. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "getting caught in a a storm so sudden and intense that even the most quickly conjured invisibrella doesnt keep them from getting soaked. their wet clothing is so uncomfortable that rather than try drying charms on them they strip down in front of the fire (which fire, which room? idk) as quick as they can, and while drying off end up wanting to touch comfortably warmed up skin"

It was Credence’s idea to walk after dinner.

But Percival — for all that he looked rather put upon when Credence did not want to go directly home — only laughs when the heavy clouds overhead burst into a sudden and violent downpour. There are people about them in the streets. Everyone scrambles for umbrellas and alcoves.

“I’m sorry,” Credence says. “If I’d known it would rain.”

Percival holds him by the shoulder and leans up so that he speak directly into Credence’s ear.

“Are you a seer, by chance?” he asks.

Overhead, lightning jumps between gaps in the clouds and thunder rolls across Manhattan.

“No,” Credence says.

“Then you couldn’t know,” Percival tells him.

He pulls them into the nearest alley and, with a look over both their shoulders, pulls them across the island to his home. Credence is soaked to the bone by then and dripping on the entry's carpet.

“Morrigan’s wand,” Percival says. “You’re soaked.”

“So are you,” Credence says. 

The rain has flattened Percival’s hair and left it sticking in dark strands to his forehead and face. Credence reaches up and sweeps it out of Percival’s eyes. His hands are shaking.

“Soaked and freezing,” Percival says, “you poor thing.”

Before Credence can rebut that statement — for he despises pity and Percival’s skin is just cold —  Percival magics off his soaking wet coat and takes Credence by the hand.

“Do you mind if I get you out of these clothes?” he asks. 

Their shoes leave puddles on the floor as they move into the sitting room. In the painting above the loveseat, Emperor Ai peers over his sleeping lover at them. The statuette of Apollo rouses by the window and stretches his arms while Hyacinth dozes against his marble thighs.

The fireplace blazes into life and casts shadows about Percival’s sitting room.

Credence’s coat and jacket peel off of him by magic and drape across the metal grate on the hearth. The whole thing moves out of the way at the gesture of Percival’s hand. Percival takes his wand from his pocket and puts it on the black lacquered table in front of the loveseat. His own clothes leave his body and drape wetly beside Credence’s. Their shoes slide over to a safe spot beside the marble pillars of the mantle.

“I always appreciate the English style of your underwear,” Percival tells him, as Credence’s buttons begin to open starting at his throat.

It was cold this morning, so he wore the sort that goes all the way to his wrists and ankles simply because he could. But now the whole matter is soaked and sticks to his skin. Under it, Credence is damp and covered in gooseflesh. He’s still shivering.

Percival’s garters undo themselves and his socks slide off his feet. Then his damp undershirt goes up over his head and his underwear slides down his legs. He is not nearly as damp as Credence, which feels unfair.

But, of course, it was Credence’s idea to go for a walk.

“Join me,” Percival says, before he kneels down on the sheepskin rug in front the hearth.

Credence looks down at Percival for a long moment, watching the easy way he moves his body and the way he gazes up at Credence. He covers himself with both hands to hide his body’s reaction to both things. The movement draws Percival’s eyes. Credence folds up and wraps his arms around his knees.

The fire radiates heat into his bones slowly, evaporating the rain off his skin. Even his hair slowly starts to dry.

“Credence,” Percival says.

Credence glances over at him and can still see the light of the fire in his eyes. He blinks a few times. Percival sits comfortably, with his thighs spread and his hands leaned back behind him. Credence can see  _everything_.

He quickly looks away, as though he has not seen nearly every inch of Percival and put his hands and mouth on much of it.

“Darling,” Percival says. Credence hears the way his smile shapes his voice.

“You look cold,” Percival says. “May I warm you up?”

“I don’t need a warming charm,” Credence says. “The fire is enough.”

Percival leans into the space that Credence has left between them.

“I didn’t mean with magic,” he says, staring at Credence.

“Oh,” Credence says. “But it’s my fault that our clothes are soaked.”

The way Percival’s eyebrows pull down over his eyes and his forehead wrinkles tells Credence that Percival thinks he is being ridiculous. Credence frowns back at him.

“All I wanted over dinner was the chance to take you home and get you out of those clothes,” Percival says.

Credence’s face begins to burn, nearly indistinguishable from the heat of the fire.

“It was all I could think of,” Percival says. “Every bite, every word, though I enjoyed it, I couldn’t shake the thought of your body from my mind.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Credence says. “You didn’t act at all out of the ordinary.”

“Yes, well,” Percival says. “I think it’s fairly ordinary of me to desire you.”

Credence blinks. He feels heat gathering between his thighs. He unfolds his arms and sets his hands down on the sheepskin.

“Percival,” he says. His heart is pounding in his chest.

“Yes?” Percival asks.

“You truly drive me to distraction,” Credence says.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Percival says.

“It’s ordinary for me to desire you as well,” Credence says. “You know that, don’t you?”

“It is my fondest hope,” Percival says.

Credence’s knees tilt toward Percival when he turns his body. He looks at him and leans close enough for their shoulders to brush. Percival’s skin is warm and dry now.

Credence looks at the curve of his mouth, the width of his neck, the hair on his chest, the hair between his legs. He can easily spot the grey in the hair on Percival’s thighs. He is familiar with every freckle and scar. The sight of Percival stirs heat in his belly that is far greater than the fire in front of them.

“Kiss me,” Credence says.

He reaches out and puts his hand against Percival’s chest.

Percival reaches across their bodies and touches his fingertips to the edge of Credence’s jaw.

“It would be my pleasure,” he says.

He draws close and his lips meet with Credence’s. Credence licks him and he tastes a bit like rainwater. Then Percival parts his lips and Credence can taste the cognac Percival had after dinner. He kisses him deeply enough to feel Percival’s teeth pressing against his lips.

Credence reaches out with both hands and wraps himself around Percival. Every inch he touches has been warmed by the fire. Credence’s hands feel hot with his own blood. He presses Percival back down against the sheepskin.

They kiss and kiss and kiss. Credence touches the muscles of Percival’s arms and finds the soft valley between his sides and his hips. He runs his hands over the length of Percival’s thighs and moves his hips between them. Percival touches his back and his shoulders and his hair. His touch is so light, so warm. The heat of the fire washes over Credence as it crackles and roars. But Percival’s hands are just as warm. His touch seems to sink even deeper into Credence’s body.

Credence knows that he can easily lose himself here, his mouth against Percival’s and their hands upon each other. So he pulls away.

Percival looks up at him with a small, but smug smile pulling on the corner of his mouth. His mouth is red from Credence’s kiss. His hair is a complete mess, but it has never looked softer.

“Is this what you were thinking of over dinner?” Credence asks. If there is more he can do for Percival, he would be happy to do it.

“Oh, Credence,” he says. “This is so much better. The reality of you is always better.”


	5. Desk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Office quickie (Illustrated)

His breath fogs the glass top of the desk beneath his cheek. The sweat cools along the curve of Credence’s spine and between his thighs. His legs still quiver.

“Have I sated your appetite?” Percival asks.

He breathes heavily between his words and Credence cannot help but smile at that.

By the time Credence pushes himself up off the desk, Percival has erased the sweat from his skin and settled all his clothes back in place. Most of Credence’s clothes remain on the desk, removed and then carefully folded by Percival’s magic. A bruise has begun to show above the edge of Percival’s collar where Credence bit him.

Credence touches the side of his own neck, where he can still feel the heat of Percival’s mouth.

Percival moves close and puts a hand against Credence’s waist. “Would you like me to clean you up?”

“No,” Credence says.

He reaches back to button his underwear closed. His own seed has left the fabric wet at the front, sticking to his tender skin. But Percival’s is inside him, Credence thinks. He’s filthy with sweat and saliva and semen.

“It should be enough to keep me satisfied until you come home for dinner,” he tells Percival.

The man looks at him.

“You are coming home for dinner, aren’t you?” Credence asks.

“Yes,” Percival says. His hand presses tight to Credence’s back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [emmel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmel)/[Martythegirl](http://martythegirl.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send requests @ jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s.tumblr.com


End file.
